


I hear the secrets that you keep(when you're talking in your sleep.)

by MarvelsMenace



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fingering, Grinding, M/M, Size Kink, Somnophilia, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelsMenace/pseuds/MarvelsMenace
Summary: When Matt is slogging home through the beginnings of a blizzard, he isnt too surprised to find Foggy out in it too.  Though he never would have expected them to be sharing a bed for warmth later that night.





	I hear the secrets that you keep(when you're talking in your sleep.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Talking in your sleep" by The Romantics
> 
> My entry for the 2019 MCU Kinkbang!
> 
>  
> 
> [Art!](https://mcukb.dreamwidth.org/6289.html)
> 
>  
> 
> by the wonderful Hazein <3
> 
> Also filling my bingo square of "did I say that ouloud?"

 

It was clear to Matt from early that morning that the imminent snow storm was going to be worse than they had warned about on the week’s news. He could feel the air pressure changing as he woke, and the humidity shifting moments after he stepped out of his building.

Matt could smell the snow on the air blowing off of the water, that heavy cold note that he could remember his dad pointing out to him as a kid. It wasn't snowing yet though, so the office opened for regular hours and Foggy tracked the storm on his phone when he wasn’t with a client, giving them regular updates that Matt could have told him by the way his head ached.

Foggy has always been delighted with snow, happy to describe it to Matt as it sparkled in the sun when you look at it from just the right angle. There had been more than one instance in college when he abandoned Matt on the side walk to flop down and make a snow angel because ‘the spot was perfect for it Matty!’

He’d been all but vibrating on the other side of the office when Matt got in, hair betraying his movements each time he looked out the window in the search of falling flakes. Matt finds a smile of his own at Foggy’s excitement for the inclement weather and shakes his head as he works through his documents.

 

* * *

 

  
The work day comes and goes, and it isn’t long before they are shutting up for the evening, walking down the street with the rest of the work force members of New York. Matt can feel a harder chill as the sun sets, taking it’s shining warmth with it as it disappears behind the horizon. He wants to go out before the storm hits just in case, part of him hopeful that with the mess coming, crime will have other things to worry about. He and Foggy part at their usual corner, the unspoken ‘be careful’ just as present as always between them as they break for their separate homes.

The flurries start half a block from his building, the kiss of cold on his cheeks seeming to take away the pain of his head as the flakes fall around him. There’s an ease to his body as the pressure slowly breaks, the clouds giving up their held moisture from above.

When he gets into his apartment and out of his tie, Matt makes a quick dinner of pasta with chicken and some passable vegetables from his crisper drawer. His basil is wilting, and his tomato is softer than he prefers, but it’s good enough to bring it all together with some salt and pepper. He gets dressed while dinner cools to an edible temperature, donning a thick pair of socks and a layer of thermal gear to stave off the chill that can still creep through the suit in some places. Matt pulls on his armored pants and boots before sitting down to eat, playing a quick episode from a podcast to pass the close silence of the apartment, half listening to the city slowing down around him. The dishes get washed, and he finishes getting dressed before scaling the small staircase to make his way onto the roof.

There’s a storm heavy wind blowing as soon as he opens the door, gusting in a way that causes the metal to jerk in his grasp before he can catch it and slam it back into its frame. The wind howls outside of his cowl, an unusual sound beneath the usual city noise. He starts off opposite of his usual patrol route, working backwards should his habits be picked up within his last few outings. Things have been quiet, and while it unsettles him, it’s preferable to the alternative. Small flecks of cold land against the skin of his jaw, and he figures the snow has picked up with the amount of water drops that begin to collect in his stubble.

It’s an hour into his frost lined route when Matt starts hearing comments about the weather across the Kitchen, voices of people doing their own research, stiff and scripted news anchors, an old woman to her companion, who swears she can tell the intensity of the impending storm by the pain in her knees. He gives that last one a chuckle and tracks them from the rooftops until he is certain they've made it into their home safely. There’s a solid depth of snow beneath his feet by the time he calls it off to head home, taking it slow so he doesn't unintentionally pitch himself off of a roof.

 

* * *

 

He’s a block from home when he hears it, even with the confusing echoes caused by the snow and the odd acoustics of the city beneath it. Foggy’s heart pounding strong as a race horse. He’s a few blocks from Matt’s own apartment, and still possibly willing to be turned around if Matt plays his cards right. He scales down a fire escape a block ahead of him, keeping to the shadows until the familiar tread of well-worn boots precedes his appearance. Matt makes a wild grab and manages to snag Foggy by the shoulders in order to manhandle him back into the shadows.

Foggy manages to cut off his shriek after the first note, sputtering beneath the leather glove over his mouth as he’s bodily moved into an alley he had been quite happy passing without notice thank you. It’s hardly a surprise when released, he turns to find Matt, or Daredevil for that matter, arms crossed with a sour expression, though Foggy knows him well enough to see that he’s fighting a smile. Most likely at Foggy’s reaction to the grabbing.

“You’re a bastard. Liable to give someone a fucking heart attack with a stunt like that." He shakes his head at the ridiculous get up. “What kind of hero would you be then huh?”

Matt’s face gives him nothing, his voice like coarse gravel when he finally speaks. “What are you doing out here? People should be indoors.”

Foggy is finding it hard to take him seriously when he knows who it is under that glare, not to mention the picture being painted as snow slowly piles upon the top of the cowl, the horns keeping their point despite the thick flakes. He hisses at Matt, careful even in his agitation in case someone is listening.  
“Because You are Matt I don’t believe in heating Murdock.” He jabs a finger against the heavy leather. “And you’ll freeze to death by the time I would have shoveled you out.”

Foggy flailed a hand in Matt’s direction as if that will settle his point. He hopes it will detract from what the Daredevil voice is currently doing to him enough to pass under Matt’s nose without detection. With the eyes as they are in the mask, Foggy can’t see anything, but he knows by the movement of his shoulders that Matt is rolling his eyes, even if he knows Foggy is telling the truth.

“Your point?”

“My point is that you probably didn’t even turn the heat on before you left. I know your track record for looking out for yourself. You’ll catch your death.”

Pink lips purse under the red mask, but Matt finally nods.

“I was heading back when I passed you. I wanted to make sure something wasn’t wrong.”  
Foggy’s voice is still a hiss as he steps closer, half wanting to shake Matt by his stupid broad shoulders.

“But you were out here in the first place!”

The bastard simply shrugs. and Foggy throws his hands up.

“Well you’re stuck with me now because I’m not walking back to my place in this when I have a key to yours. Try not to slip to much heading back, it’s getting rough.”

Matt scurries out of the alley with his usual feline grace, leaping up to snag the ladder of a fire escape before he’s vaulting his way up and onto the roof. It only happens once, but Foggy catches the moment his foot slips, and hopes that his lurching heart doesn’t distract Matt any further from getting back to the roof. A few moments later he is standing at the top, looking very much like a frost dusted gargoyle, and Foggy has a pretty good feeling that he’ll have a shadow until he gets into Matt’s building.

Foggy makes his way out of the alley, feeling a bit warmer as he resumes moving, trying to stay beneath the street lamps as he walks. He passed a few swerving cars on his walk already, hopefully any coming his way will try to avoid the streetlights. It takes him longer than usual to reach Matt’s building, and he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat beneath his clothing by the time he lets himself into the foyer of the building, uncommon exertion from trudging through the snow taking more out of him than he had expected. He kicks off as much snow as he can before he starts on the stairs to top floor with a sigh, taking his time as he heaves himself up the empty staircase.

 

* * *

 

  
Matt is stomping off his own boots by the time Foggy lets himself in, smelling of snow and his own warmth that his body always seems to carry. Matt runs a hand through his hair as he descends the stairs, freeing the coarse strands from the static that always seems to build up beneath the cowl. The sweat he had worked up during his route has dried atop his skin for the most part, leaving him feeling stiff and gritty. He must be wearing a look of displeasure because Foggy laughs as he turns on the lights, finding his way into the kitchen.

“You look gross, go take a shower and I’ll make you something sweet if you’re quick.”

He perks up at that, listening to what Foggy is rummaging for in his pantry, beneath the cabinets as if he belongs in in Matt’s kitchen. Sugar, pan, milk, chocolate, he’s very familiar with what those things make, something he hasn’t had since last winter.

“Nana’s hot chocolate?” A smile is tugging at his mouth, and he fights down the eagerness that blooms in his chest.

Foggy’s heart skips a beat, like he’s happily surprised with Matt's eagerness.

“The one and only. Be quick because I’m not keeping it warm if you take forever.”

That’s enough of an encouragement for Matt who scampers over to the entrance to his bedroom with the eerie sort of grace Foggy usually only glimpses here in the apartment. When he’s listening intently for something, too someone, Foggy is easily reminded of a very focused working dog. Like this though, with his long body and easy grace, it’s like Matt is some jungle cat that has been plucked from some exotic place and dropped into the heart of the city.

Foggy has known the recipe for the drink since his childhood, straightforward and easy until he hit twenty-one and his nana imported the knowledge into him for how much of each alcohol to add depending on which you had on hand. She had written it down for him only once, and he still had the paper somewhere, stained and water wrinkled, but still in his possession. He settles on whiskey, doing the math in his head to make sure it’s right before he caps the bottle once everything is mixed and simmering. He’s tempted to take a pull out of the glass vessel a few minutes later when Matt exits his bedroom in low rising sweats and a hoodie in his hands that he seems to be fighting with in the zipper department.

Foggy cuts the heat under the pot off with all of his focus to avert his eyes, the soft puff of a dying gas burner the only sound as he stirs the mixture with a trusty wooden spoon, ladling it out once he feels the consistency is right. He manages to get two mugs filled and set out the counter just as the lights flicker ominously. Matt does his head tilt that will never fail to make him look canine, listening intently for something to happen. And happen it does, there’s a low thrum that even Foggy can hear before they are plunged into darkness, any available light from moon or stars outside the window stopped by the heavy cloud cover. He stays still instantly, fishing for his phone in his back pocket, debating whether or not to waste battery on the flashlight.

“Well fuck.”

Matt chuckles at him, and Foggy can hear him moving things around on the countertop before the sound of his feet shuffling begins to echo through the empty space. There’s a soft thunk somewhere in front of him, and Foggy turns his ear in that direction, listening as Matt’s feet carry him back through the apartment on some sort of mission. He eventually ends up back at Foggy’s side, and there’s a soft scraping noise before the spark and following flame of a match lights up Matt’s smirking visage. He had apparently been collecting candles as he was rummaging around in the dark, now passing them to Foggy for assistance in lighting the ones with the shorter wicks.

They leave one on the counter and one on the kitchen table, placing three more on the small coffee table as Matt leads him to the couch with a wry sort of amusement in his voice that is obviously from the irony of the situation.

“Take a step to the right, then one forward, and then move left, otherwise you’ll kick the leg and break your toe.” He chuckles with a fond sense of reminiscence. “Yes, that was learned from experience despite my bat powers.”

It’s eerily quiet now, the silence of a whole building losing its constant noise within a thriving and living city that has also died for a time judging on the dark windows normally blinding Foggy with technicolor despite the opacity of the panes of glass. Once settled into the couch, Matt trusts him enough to pass him his hot chocolate, helping to guide Foggy even with the dim light.

It hits him in the chest, how similar it is to when they first became roommates, still a bit unsure, and he so eager to help Matt in any way. It had taken Matt a month to get the chance or maybe courage, to show Foggy that while yes, he was blind, he didn't have to have everything handed to him. Foggy’s ears had gone pink at the realization that he had unintentionally been treating Matt a bit like an invalid. Luckily, they were able to laugh about it, each moment when Matt truly needed help becoming a bit sweeter when Foggy didn't hesitate to lend a hand.

The hot chocolate is still steaming, but they sip at it gingerly in the chill of the place, knees brushing against the other’s as they find comfortable spots under a blanket. The heat seems to bleed from their bodies to the other, assisted by the warmth of the drink and the whiskey in it. They talk for a time before the warmth of the drink and its alcohol muddles them into a boneless sort of feeling against the back of the couch. Matt is sagging, his mug long abandoned so he could rest his head on Foggy’s shoulder.

Foggy lets himself enjoy it, the peaceful sort of aura that seems to float off of Matt with each exhale. He yawns and shuffles a bit, stirring Matt who only snuggles closer beneath the blanket. Foggy’s heart ticks up a bit and he suddenly feels like this is a bad idea. He shuffles a bit, hoping to wake him.

“C’mon Matty.”

Matt grumbles, nuzzling closer despite the distance Foggy is trying to create.

“You’ll get a crick in your neck and then how will you fight crime?”

He makes an irritated noise and glares at Foggy, though his eyes are heavy and just a bit off to the right. After heaving himself up though, he manages to stumble his way to his bed, grumbling all the while about he was warm where he was.

Together they pull out all of the blankets and quilts in the apartment, piling them on the bed until it seems like something out of a comedy routine.

“Muscle is shit for keeping you warm Matty.”

He helps Matt turn down enough of the pile so he can crawl in. His heart thuds in his chest, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s not so sure what he’s feeling at the moment, or why just looking at Matt all snuggly and sleepy in the empty bed is making him feel it. Foggy makes a snap decision and belly flops onto the pile as soon as Matt is settled beneath the layers, cackling as Matt grunts and struggles with a laugh. It cuts off the silence, and they are both thankful for the break.

“Alright, alright! I give!” He’s laughing though, smiling one of those genuine face cracking smiles that Foggy wants to trap in a jar like fireflies for whenever Matt has a shit day. He rolls off to the side with a grunt, feet finding the cold floor. Matt seems to reach for him but stops so quickly that Foggy isn’t sure if it really happened or not.

“You sure you’re okay with the couch? We’ve shared a bed more than enough times.” There’s something in his voice this time, but Foggy isn’t sure what.

“Yeah, not to mention you only want me for my body heat, and that’s a sure way to wake up with you and all your heavy limbs on top of me.”

Matt chuckles, but he’s wearing that smile that screams guilty when he knows Foggy is right.  
“You’ll get cold though.”

“Nah man, I’ve got blubber, I’m set. No need to worry your pretty head.”  
Foggy smacks a hand against his stomach, tickled when Matt laughs, and hoping that maybe he was distracted enough to not catch his slip up. He would probably never be immune to how pretty Matt is.

“Who knows what kind of vigilante fellows have been led into that bed?”

Matt snorts and throws a pillow at him with aim that goes above, and beyond accuracy.

“Fine, go away.”

Foggy doesn’t bother rolling the door closed as he returns to the couch, looking empty and uninviting and cold. There’s the clatter of Matt’s hoodie landing somewhere on the floor in the other room, the metal zipper loud against the floor. He bites off a sigh before he can start and tries to get settled, telling himself that it’s the right thing to do.

 

* * *

 

 

Foggy goes through the apartment extinguishing candles matt had left to guide him, leaving the ones on the coffee table until he gets settled before blowing them out. The smell of smoke makes Matt sneeze even in the other room.

He makes it ten minutes on the couch before the chilled leather of the cushions beneath him succeed in stealing his warmth, only to force cold up his spine in the wake of his body heat. He gives in when his teeth begin to chatter, wrapping the blanket they had used earlier around himself like a cloak as he stands and shuffles in socked feet across the predictably cold floor.

Matt makes a sleepy noise beneath the stack of blankets Foggy had piled up earlier, though he doesn't stir. While he is probably still half-awake the guy had slept like the dead in college, still needed Foggy to call and make sure he was up on important mornings. This probably wouldn't be the last time they would share a bed if he was honest with himself, a part of him still hoped that they would be sharing one in a different sense one day.

It’s like a sauna in the queen size nest Matt has managed to make, the perfect kind of stuffy beneath the weight of the blankets that pulls a sigh from Foggy as he settles himself. It isn’t long before he feels thawed, able to settle comfortably on his side with an arm hooked under one of the few extra pillows piled at the head of the bed. These were warm, and he sort of regretted leaving the one out on the couch all alone. With the warm blankets, and the soft, wet noise of snow falling outside, it isn’t long at all before he can hardly keep his eyes open, falling into sleep almost without notice, a span of space separating his back from Matt’s.

 

* * *

 

 

When Matt comes out of his version of ‘rest’ the building is still quiet, the city buildings a few blocks away thrumming with power, though muffled by the weight of snow cover that continues to grow. It was Foggy who roused him, making soft sleepy noises as he curled against Matt’s back and oh, that’s happening. Foggy's hips twitch against him, his morning wood, if it even counted as that with whatever time it was, pressing with interest against Matt’s ass, allowing him to feel every inch of length despite the two layers of sweats between their bodies.

Matt had first heard about Foggy’s endowment in whispers around the law school, it was hard not to once the new freshman feeling wore off and they each broke out of their respective shells. Foggy hadn't had many hook-ups that first year, but those he enjoyed a time with, well, they talked. And Matt? Matt was good at denying himself, but temptation always seemed to rise to him, toying with him at his weakest moments.

He had, in his own way glimpsed the outline of his cock against Foggy’s thigh once, when his focus to not look had been compromised; his sense of echolocation painting a clear picture as foggy dressed amidst the sounds of the old dorm building and drafty air currents. Even with his back turned, Matt could make out the shape of Foggy’s body in its entirety as he changed, the soft curves and lines of his body, the shape of long hair spilling off his shoulders. He did his best to focus above the waist if he had to.

These days though, there isn’t much of that, save quiet comments if Marci is around and wants to ruffle his feathers, trying to bring a bit of color to his face. Instead it’s worse than rumors, it’s the fact that Matt is unable to resist smelling him, able to hear him shifting against the material of his pants, sense the heat pooling in his groin some days if his mind drifts from his usual self-control of avoiding anything lover than Foggy’s waist, and Foggy has seen or read something that makes his dick twitch with intertest while they are out at a bar or walking in the city.

He rocks back slightly, and Foggy’s hips roll against his in response, pressing the hard line of his dick along the crack of Matt’s ass like a compass point up his spine. Matt holds his breath for a moment, willing his own blood to stay above his waist band while knowing all too well that that is a lost cause. Foggy would be mortified if he woke him, so Matt stays still and takes it, lies to himself that its better than embarrassing Foggy for something that everyone encounters. Matt himself certainly wasn’t a stranger to these types of dreams.

“Matty”

It's drawn out and breathy but it's his name and Matt makes a quiet sort of noise hoping that God will forgive him.

 

* * *

 

Matt’s chin is digging into his gut, but the discomfort of the press of bone is less than noticeable with the picture he makes. He’s flushed from his throat up, color high on his cheekbones as he pants, wanton and open mouthed. He’s all but rutting against Foggy’s thigh, a firm press without pattern as a whine builds in the back of his throat. Foggy touches his bangs, close to sweat damp, before pushing them away from his face, trailing his hand down to thumb at Matt’s bottom lip. He sucks it greedily into his open mouth, apparently finding a good angle. The circle his of his hips tight as his mouth falls open, a string of spit lingering when Foggy pulls his thumb back.

“You look so pretty like this Matty, you gonna come for me?”  
He nods and Foggy could honestly come just from watching Matt get himself off, tries not to as Matt buries his face against his stomach with a groan, he goes still, back arching as he grinds against Foggy's thigh a final time and shudders. There’s a mess on his thigh, he’s sure of it, but he’s still in his sweats, and has been all too content with Matt using him to worry about stripping them off his person.

“Matt, oh god Matty.”

His hips twitch up, the head of his cock pressing against the damp cotton of his sweats to nestle between Matt’s pecks. There's something wrong with the fact that Matt is perfectly naked against him, while Foggy is still wearing both pants and a shirt.

Despite the shallow groove he fits almost perfect there and can only gasp as Matt’s calloused hands slip under his shirt to palm his belly, mouth following in short order to graze his teeth along soft skin. Foggy all put rips his shirt off of his torso, unwilling to let his gaze leave Matt’s face save for freeing himself from the garment. Matt is soft against his thigh, but content in letting Foggy thrust against him, encouraging him with soft kisses and nips against his abdomen.  
He’s oh so close, the press of their bodies heady after watching Matt all but use him for his own pleasure. His hands snake up, calloused fingertips paying expert attention of the thick skin of his nipples. There’s the slow drag of contact before Matt pinches one, making Foggy jerk in response. He’s trained on Foggy’s face, pupils blown wide and face intent as he drags calloused hands over soft skin.

“Foggy” - his voice is clear than I should be from where foggy can see him clearly sucking a mark to the right of his navel, intent in his venture to Foggy’s dick. "Fogs-”

Matt slinks up his body to kiss at the underside of his jaw, hands skimming lower to pet lovingly at his stomach while his unruly hair is making Foggy want to sneeze. Matt’s teeth sink in and he can feel himself just on the tipping point.

 

* * *

   
He comes into consciousness on the edge of release, hands spasming a top the firm muscle he’s been grasping at. Brown hair is the source of the tickling at the end of his nose, and he sucks in a breath as he takes in the pink markings of a fresh attempt at a few hickeys from his sleeping self.  
“Matty-Oh my God Matt! Holy shit, I’m so-"

Foggy is still hard and tries to pull away, but Matt clamps his hands over Foggy’s and presses back against the small space with a grunt as he rubs against Foggy’s cock.

“You better finish what you started, otherwise go back to sleep.”

He’d been grinding on him, riling Matt up and up until he couldn’t help gasping out Foggy’s name. He had laid a heavy arm over Matt’s side, hand coming up to cup him through his shirt, the coarse weave of it a mix of heaven and hell below the heat of his hand as the material rubbed against his nipples.

Matt would have been able to hear his thick swallow even without his enhanced hearing as close as Foggy is, his heart his thrumming at his back and heavy exhales damp on the back of his neck. A startled laugh escapes Foggy, and God, his face is on fire. Matt presses further back, any closer and he would be on his back with Matt in his lap

“You're sure this - this is okay? I feel like-“

Matt actually growls, his hand coming to rest over Foggy’s, pushing it further against his chest.  
“Foggy I swear I am consenting with a clear head, and your subconscious has been playing with me for the past twenty-three minutes.”

His hips roll again and this time Foggy doesn’t stop himself from pressing back against him. He feels the noise Matt makes in response in his chest, their bodies so close, pressed as flush as possible with a noise he doesn’t mean to make. Matt while eager, seems to possess an inability to stay still, forcing Foggy to grip his hip and hold him in place.

Now that he’s conscious, and Matt is interested in the moment, he allows himself some leeway, kissing down the side of Matt’s neck, dragging his teeth over pale skin when he bares his throat in the first sign of submission Foggy has ever seen from him. He lets his hand move down, taking hold of Matt’s hip to try to keep him from pushing Foggy back off the bed.

“More.”

Without the risk of waking Foggy up, they are leaps and bounds past that problem, Matt is openly panting as he grinds back against Foggy, apparently having lost his brain to mouth filter with the loss of the building’s power. He’s needy, and it only seems to encourage Foggy. How many times had he masturbated in the shower, imagining something just like this, their bodies crammed together on one of the creaky dorm beds. The thought is out of his mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying.

“You, oh God Fogs, you can fuck me if you want.”

Foggy makes a broken sort of noise behind him, the hand on his hip seizing with a strength that has Matt moaning and pushing all too willing into his grip. He should have known Matt would like being manhandled, but he’s interrupted before he can open his mouth.

“Do that again and I might even say please.”

He makes a pained noise and Matt chuckles, squirming away enough to reach the end table and fish around in the drawer of the thing. He drags a foot up Foggy’s thigh in the process off the journey, and Foggy uses it to haul him back into his own space as soon as he makes a noise of triumph.

They wind up pressed face to face, a somber cautiousness falling over them. Matt opens his eyes, and they shine in the darkness, just a touch of light from the moon breaking through the clouds, it’s glow seeping into the apartment to cast shadows. Foggy swallows and forces himself to speak.

“Hi.”

Matt’s face breaks into a goofy sort of smile and he presses forward to kiss Foggy, eager hands playing with the hem of his shirt. He tugs at Foggy’s bottom lip as he pulls back, smirking at the sweet music of Foggy’s heart seems to jump and stumble with the action.

“Hi yourself. Can I?” He plucks at the shirt, raising his brows as if to make a point.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” The words have little heat, especially when they are muffled as Foggy helps to himself of his shirt.

Without this barrier they share that first real touch of skin to skin. It pulls the breath from Matt’s lungs, the sudden amount of feeling, part of him losing where his skin ends and Foggy’s begins. They’re only touching chest to chest, and he worries he might break from anymore. He wants it anyways.

“Please, fuck me Fogs.”

  
The coarse hair on Foggy’s chest rubs against him, lighting up on his sensitive skin like electric sparks. He moves a hand up in wonder, feeling them move beneath his fingers as he returns to touch the thicker trail of hair that he had brushed against just below his navel. He drags his nails downwards, oh so gently as he dips beneath the waist band of his sweats, reaching the nest of curls at the base of his cock.

Foggy just barely keeps from shouting as Matt takes him in his warm hand, giving an experimental stroke upwards that has a bead of precum sliding under his grip. Foggy is big, plump and long, with a sort of perfect proportion, the blood vessels thrumming beneath the skin, so close to Matt’s touch. It’s something to feel Foggy twitch in his hand, growing from the attention. He resolves himself to try to make this happen again, so he can get his mouth on it, feel the soft skin on his tongue.

Matt fumbles the bottle of lube into Foggy’s grasp with his free hand, having forgot about it with the marks Foggy was leaving in a line down his jaw in thanks. He can almost feel the glow of them, heat pooling under his skin in a different manner than that of his flush and he suddenly has a need to feel more of Foggy and the texture of his skin. Matt wriggles out of his sweat pants and boxer briefs, shoving them somewhere near his feet at the foot of the bed.

“Farewell panties.” Foggy murmurs against his throat, chuckling as Matt makes an irritated noise.

“They aren’t panties. How do you know what underwear I own anyways?”

He twists his wrist on the next stroke of Foggy’s cock and smirks in triumph as his choked off reply.

“I lived with you for years, and occasionally visit to play nurse.”

Matt decides to give him a point for that, seeing as how he was wearing a pair of his choice black boxer briefs before dressing the rest of the way for bed. He hears hair move as Foggy shifts, pulling Matt with him until he’s kneeling on the bed, Matt’s knees wide apart as he brackets Foggy’s thighs with his own.

Soft hair brushes his cheek as he looks to where their bodies meet, Matt’s cock hot and flushed, pressing with a certain dampness against the softness of Foggy’s stomach. He probably can sense Foggy’s gaze on him and pushes closer, humming encouragement as a soft hand cups him, squeezing and stroking until he can feel precome emerge, only to pant at the sensation of having it cool as it rolls down his shaft.

With a nip at the tip of his ear he’s got Foggy’s mouth on his own again, urgent and toe curling as the cap of the lube bottle pops like a gun shot. He teases him slowly, the one hand on Matt’s hip sliding around to take a hand full of his ass while the other drags to his hole with a tortured slowness. Foggy grazes him first, a flirty sort of touch, playing for a moment before he presses in with a single finger that isn’t enough. It feels like no time has even passed before he’s panting into their next kiss, rocking back on the digit.

“You’re a-a tease Foggy, you know that?”

“You’ve called me worse.”

He curls his finger and knows when he’s hit the mark as Matt jerks in his arm, a needy noise clawing its way from his throat him as he presses back for more. Foggy works him open slowly, enjoying the experience as Matt peppers his front with sucking marks and bruising teeth. He’s sucking a spot just behind his ear, the same space he was just sniffing, rocking back eagerly when Foggy adds a third finger, only to lean back with a smile that yells danger.

“Tell me a-Ah! about the dream you were having.”

Foggy groans, too busy with the experience of Matt fucking himself on his fingers for his brain to immediately process the words. He sighs, his free hand squeezing at a sharp boned hip. He could play coy, but with Matt already needy and eager, Foggy wants to reward him.

“Well, first off you were naked. Which is beginning to seem like a trend…”

Matt tugs at his hair, urging Foggy on as he twists his wrist for the right angle.

“You were using my thigh to get off, grinding on me and getting my pants all kinds of dirty.”

Matt chuckles, but his hips buck, as if he’s imagining it himself.

“You came all over my thigh, and draped all over me until you were rubbing my dick with your chest. That was all I got to enjoy before I woke up to this pleasant surprise.”

He’s rewarded in turn with a smile in his general direction, though it is erased as Matt’s face crumples when Foggy deliberately strokes his prostate.

“God Matty I might not last like this. You look so pretty.”  
Matt is having none of that, he shoves back against foggy until he topples him, dipping a hand into Foggy’s pants to make as much of a ring as he can with his fingers at the base of his cock. He squeezes slowly at first but steadily increase the pressure of his grip until Foggy sucks in a breath, breathing heavy below the weight of Matt’s muscle.

“Holy shit, message received. I’ll invest in a ring next time, you’re gonna kill me.”

That earns him a sharp grin and a kiss, sloppy as he grinds their pelvises together. A sudden thought strikes Foggy and he pulls back with a swear.

“Christ Matt Condoms-” 

Matt makes a noise somewhere between anguish and irritation as Foggy stills him. He had been happy rutting against Foggy’s cock.

“I want you to fuck me Fogs, please”.

“Shit, Matty I don’t have condoms.”

It was a fair assumption that Matt’s wouldn’t fit comfortable as endowed as he was from what Foggy had felt and Matt groaned, figuring he was already in over his head. Worse things could happen than his owning up to his debauchery.

 “In my closet there’s a dresser on the right wall, it’s small. Check the second drawer from the top.”

As loud was his heart was roaring in the room, Foggy would have a better chance of getting there and back with what they needed. Matt knows where the bed is beneath him, but the rest is a wave of unprocessed input around him.

“God Matt, this better be worth freezing.”

The cold of the apartment was jarring as Foggy worked his way out from under the blankets, using the light of his phone to help him find the edge of the closet door and the dresser in question. It was a plain thing made of black wood, and Foggy didn’t recall ever noticing it, thought he had had to push a line of slacks out of the way to reach it

 “Second drawer second drawer.” His curiosity was strong, but he succeeds in ignoring the top drawer, instead sliding open the second one as if something inside would bite him. There was a muffled groan from the bed and he forced his attention back to the task at hand, willing himself not to get distracted by the fact what Matt was fingering himself with enthusiasm while he  
panted in Foggy’s direction.

 “Oh.”

 The drawer was divided and organized in small sections beneath Braille labels, maybe descriptions of the...toys. Due to their size there were only four in his drawer, nestled cleanly next to a box of fitting condoms from the look of things.

 “How you doing Matty? Got a minute for me to be nosy.”

 Matt’s answering noise told him he would have to wait till later to see the other drawers but this one was allowed if he hurried.

 The first toy was a solid glass dildo, large and heavy in his hand and just as large as Foggy himself. It was shaped fairly symmetrical, but with small raised detailing that he was sure felt amazing against the walls of Matt’s sensitive body.

The glass piece was accompanied by two silicone cocks, brightly colored with a shorter thicker shaft on one and a thin length with a flared head making up the other. The last one was a vibrator, packed nicely next to the small remote that Foggy’s hand itched to hold. They had time he told himself. A shiver overtook him, and he tore a strip of condoms from the box at the front of the drawer before shutting the door with a sort of reverence and booking it back for the bed, pausing only to shed his remaining clothing.

“That was an experience Matty. Could have warned a guy.”

Matt snuggled back into his space immediately, kissing away the chill that had swept over him out of bed.

“Hearing your heart pick up was more fun.” He wishes he could actually see the flush spreading beneath his hands, see the color of Foggy’s skin turn a rosy pink just from his touch, from Matt’s own hands drawing warm blood to the surface.

“Yeah? Well I bet fucking you with those things would be the most fun, but for now you’re stuck with me.”

Foggy rocked his hips foreword, his dick bumping slightly against Matt’s as they fought to get  
closer to each other.

“We’ll see how you do counselor. Maybe we can discuss terms.”  
Foggy growled and rolled Matt over, pinning him from the hips down with his own body

“I’m going to fuck you until you can’t sass me Murdock.”

Matt spread his legs as if to say I’m waiting while Foggy leaned back, tearing off a condom and ripping open the wrapper so he could roll it on. Matt was kind enough to keep his hands above the waist, only a bit less distracting than his hands would have been on anything lower. Foggy grabs more lube, coating his dick in it before using the access to stroke at Matt’s yielding hole.

“Ready Matty?”

“I was ready an hour ago.”

Foggy kisses him quiet and smooths his hands up the muscled thighs as he settles Matt’s legs around his waist. He slides once, twice, against the cleft of his ass before he guides himself to Matt’s entrance, a slow roll of his hips pushing the head of his cock past that ring of muscle. That ring pressing right on his glans makes something in his brain seem to buzz, so he rocks gently forward, sliding in oh so slowly as Matt gets used to his cock.

“God Foggy, you’re so big. Feel so good.”

He’s rocking slowly beneath him, taking him deeper and deeper in short pushes. Foggy’s hips are twitching, but he is panting through the stillness, his thighs quivering against Matt’s. The sheets are tight in his firsts, and Foggy takes his hands, squeezing them as he manipulates them to rest beside Matt’s head, their fingers automatically lacing. It seems like an eternity before Matt has taken him down to the base, a throbbing pulse within his body that’s a beat off from his own heartbeat, thrumming against his own roaring blood. Matt shifts, rocking until a jolt races up his spine, urging him in to move against Foggy.

“Shit Matt, wanted this for so long buddy.”

Foggy pulls back slightly, and Matt’s breath catches with how the head of him drags to perfectly against his inner walls before he’s moving back against him, a slow drag over his prostate that makes him gasp. Matt wills his body still, blinking in response to those words he had always hope would be said, but never really expected. Foggy of course really starts moving then, the stretch so good and forcing Matt to feel like Foggy is fucking his way into his throat. He frees a hand, gripping Matt at the hip for better leverage.

“Fuck, did I just say that out loud? Safe to say any blood in my brain has left for my dick.”  
Matt isn’t able to stifle his laugh at that and he paws around, the sheer amount of things he’s feeling both physically and emotionally unseating him. He moves Foggy’s hand with his own and pulls it away from the sheets with a firm grip, their fingers still linked as he raises it to his mouth. Matt presses a kiss there, open mouthed and wet against sweat salted skin on the back of Foggy’s hand. He’s fighting for breath, a losing battle with the pleasure rocking through him, piled on top of the tightness in his chest. It makes him pant and he forces himself to speak when he thinks his words are arranged in the right order.

“I’ve wanted this too Fogs, just didn’t know how to ask.”

A whine builds in his throat with each shove back against Foggy’s thrusts. “Harder Fogs, fuck me fuck me fuck me.”

“-swear to God you’re in a constant state of wanting shit that’s bad for you.” He cant deny him though and puts his weight into it, showing matts body into the mattress until it creaks and the headboard rattles. Matt groans and lifts his shoulders enough to get at Foggy’s front, licking and biting as he begs against soft skin.

His orgasm takes him by surprise, the burning within his bones roaring before a sudden shatter over takes him and he comes with a wail, painting his chest with his release. Foggy fucks him through it, talking not stop until his hips find an unsteady rhythm and he’s swelling just slightly within the vice of Matt’s body before he’s coming with a warm wave that makes his insides tingle.

Foggy’s arms shake as he pulls himself back, tasking the moan that Matt makes as pulls out, parting to tie off the condom and retrieve a towel from the bathroom. He cleans matt up first, who is still laying boneless and content, though he makes a while as Foggy runs a finger over his loose hole.

Moonlight strikes his face and he’s gifted a glimpse of the pupils of matt’s eyes, blown wide in his blank gaze, leaving a skinny ring of iris behind. He didn’t know he could do that, alter that blind look with his touch, something even the brightest of lights couldn’t do. A gentle touch, the right brain chemicals, and Foggy wants to growl because he did that. He and his hands brought that look to Matt’s face.

The towel his tossed to the end of the bed, and the blankets pulled up over cooling skin. Matt moves closer, already chilled until Foggy drags him over his chest like he’s an oversized cat. He unconsciously makes a noise of tired interest as Foggy’s thigh slots between his legs.  
Foggy sucks in a breath, and his words are thick.

“Going to need a minute before the next round Matty, maybe a nap, not all of us are enhanced sex vixens.”

Whether it’s the endorphins running or simple enjoyment of the moment, Matt’s heart leaps at the mention of a next time. He feels drunk and blames his next words on it.

“Next round? Maybe I don’t want to wait.”

Matt moves to roll away, but he doesn’t get far, landing on his side with Foggy spooning him from behind. He wriggles comfortably, pushing back to nestle the meat of his ass in the space of Foggy’s thighs, who makes a noise of appreciation, placing a soft kiss to the back of Matt’s neck.

“You don’t want me to sleep do you?”

“Sleep can be a sign of hypothermia.”

Foggy scoffs. “Fine, keep me awake by telling me how many drawers are in your secret sex cabinet.”

He rubs a thumb oh so lightly over one of Matt’s nipples, enjoying the full body shudder that follows. “Not all of us can find out these things in the dark.”

Matt’s reply is broken by a yawn, and the reminder that unlike Foggy, he didn’t get any sleep.

“How about we take that nap, and then I’ll give you the tour.”

Foggy’s chuckle is low and dark at the back of his neck as he places another kiss there, tangling their legs together.

“Fine, but you have to fuck me with one of them.”

Matt sucks in a breath, all too awake all of a sudden.

“Maybe I can be talked out of that nap…”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I hear the secrets that you keep(when you're talking in your sleep.) FANART](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18148745) by [Hazein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazein/pseuds/Hazein)




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